I could see the sunny drawing-rooms, sprinkled with periodicals she didn't read, in which Mrs.
Monarch had continuously sat; I could see the wet shrubberies in which she had walked, equipped to admiration for either exercise.

I could see the rich covers the Major had helped to shoot and the wonderful garments in which, late at night, he repaired to the smoking-room to talk about them.

I could imagine their leggings and waterproofs, their knowing tweeds and rugs, their rolls of sticks and cases of tackle and neat umbrellas; and I could evoke the exact appearance of their servants and the compact variety of their luggage on the platforms of country stations.
They gave small tips, but they were liked; they didn't do anything themselves, but they were welcome.

They looked so well everywhere; they gratified the general relish for stature, complexion and "form." They knew it without fatuity or vulgarity, and they respected themselves in consequence.

They weren't superficial: they were thorough and kept themselves up--it had been their line.